Blacklisted Me
by jerry-trainor
Summary: Spencer Shay, a member of the Seattle Washington police force, had thought that he'd put all feelings of love and compassion behind him long ago. Sam Puckett, a criminal, thought the same. But they were wrong. Spencer/Sam SPAM - RATED M for rape, sex, violence.


****A door was banged open in a police station in Seattle Washington.

The man behind the door, Spencer Shay - a tall, attractive man in his thirties with dark, half-long hair and clean-shaven face – startled when his colleague walked into his office. It seemed like he'd never work at this place long enough to get used to the fact that the policemen who worked with him never knocked before they went through the door. Even if the door in question belonged to someone whom they had to show respect to if they wanted to get anywhere in their work.

The man who had banged the door open, Socko Jayden, grinned widely, closing the door behind him and holding up a folder in one hand so that Spencer could see it.

"This, my friend, will make you happy," he said smugly, walking up to his superior's desk.

Spencer sighed, dropped the pen he'd been holding in his hand, and looked at this coworker.

Socko was the closest thing he had to a friend, and he'd known him since he was eighteen, but he'd still never admit that Spencer had actually made it further in their carrier than him.  
That was why he still tried to give him all these useless little cases. He was no where near as high- ranking as his companion, even though they'd both graduated from Police Academy at the same time.

"What is it?"

"You know Puckett?" Socko said, and in an instant all of his attempts to seem professional melted away, and his eyes shone like that of a child's on Christmas Eve when he dropped the folder on Spencer's desk.

"Samantha Puckett?" Spencer said with a small smile. "Of course I do. Why?"

"We've figured out where she is!" Socko said, pointing to the folder for Spencer to see. "Or no, not really "figured out," but we have a pretty reliable clue about where she is right now!"

Spencer chuckled and closed the folder.

"We've had a clue about where she is for the last six months. Why are you getting so giddy over this now?"

"Because now," Socko said almost whispering, like if he said to too loud, the entire American Police core would storm trough the door and snatch the folder away from him, "we've gotten the case! Everyone has tried every place Puckett's been seen in, and now, there's only one left!" And we get to check that out!"

Samantha Puckett was one of the many burglars in Spencer and Socko's district. What made Socko so excited, Spencer had to guess, was that the criminal probably was unique in the way that no one had caught her in six months, not to mention that she was the most efficient one. Spencer had never heard of anyone doing so many burglaries in such short time, despite all his years a cop. And he should have been ecstatic that they finally had a chance to catch her, but to be honest, nothing seemed more unattractive to him now.

But he did have to smile a little at Socko's joy over this. Spencer had seen the desk boy right before he'd graduated from Police Academy, the minute before his wedding, and the first time he'd gotten promoted, but none of those occasions compared to his level of excitement now.

Now, Socko was hopping from one foot to the other, shoving his hands into his pockets then pulling them back out to rake them through his hair and then move them up to bite his nails. He almost seemed insulted that Spencer wasn't acting the same way.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and stopped his fidgeting for a brief moment. "Aren't you happy? If we get this slut, you'll probably get another fancy medal. And I might get promoted again and get… and office!"

Spencer laughed.

Socko really was his constant confirmation that he really had succeeded. They'd been cops for the exact same amount of time, and Spencer still had a big office with a desk made out of expensive oak, a little cabinet filled to the brim with medals, and a bigger paycheck than most of his coworkers could even dream of. And Socko had a puny little office, which looked more like a storage room than a place to work, and was usually out in the waiting room of the station, spinning a pen between his fingers, always prepared for Spencer to come out of his office with his jacket in one hand, nod to him to follow him, and then bring him out on another case. Even though their boss, Jason Erricson, had explicitly forbidden Spencer to bring Socko to anything that was "over his capacity."

Socko looked up when he heard his friend laugh. On his face was an almost childish look of disappointment, and Spencer had to clear his throat and quiet down.

"Sorry," he said with a small smile. "Of course you'll get an office."

Socko's puppy face cracked in a big smile, and he bent down to the folder again. It was almost amusing how much he wanted Spencer's approval.

"She's in that alley," Socko said, pointing to the address in the report. "Behind Macy's. At least, that's where we think she is."

Spencer nodded and smiled tiredly at his colleague.

"Okay. I guess I'll be the one to go there and catch her. And you can sit by your desk when I hand her over, so that it'll look like you've done some work, too?"

Socko's smile turned into a smirk, with a faint shadow of shame behind it.

"You read my mind. And when – if- you get back with Puckett, you're gonna have to hold yourself down for an hour or so if you want to break her. Smith is dealing with rape right now. It could take a while."

Spencer nodded.

"But you'll book the interrogation room for me?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Spencer got up and walked towards the door. He snatched his jacket from a drawer the way out.

He had no clue at all that he was leaving his old life in the room behind him.

-

Spencer drove through the crowded streets of the city that he'd come to know so well. A rational person in his position would have brought backup, or at least would have been a bit nervous. But Spencer was beyond all that. For some reason, though he secretly didn't know how, the detective had become a professional; he was prompt, formal, and, above all else, ruthless. He also had a certain disdain for all criminals that helped him immensely when confronting them.

A lot of the people he'd arrested had actually crumpled the moment they'd seen him, gun in hand and face expressionless, because they'd known him so well by reputation. And even though Samantha was supposed to be a professional, Spencer doubted that she'd cause him any trouble. He'd seen pictures of her. Not very good pictures, since the girl never usually stayed in one place for too long and thus getting a good shot of her could be difficult, but he'd seen enough to be confident that he'd know her by sight once he'd found her.

Spencer was careful to park his car at least three blocks away from Macy's, which was a "legal" secondhand store that some of the lower-ranking members of this occupation had investigated several times. As he walked through the crowded, night streets of Seattle, inconspicuous because of his semi-normal-looking uniform, further covered by his jacket, Spencer found his heart beginning to beat faster, as it always did in situations such as these. Somehow, the idea of locking someone up got his blood pumping.

It wasn't like fear turned him on or anything. He just enjoyed taking away such people's freedom. That was what someone in his position was meant to feel, wasn't it?

When he finally reached Macy's street, Spencer began to move more carefully – not too fast, but not too suspiciously, either. When he was a few inches away from the store itself, he again changed tactics, easily climbing the fence that shut the back of the place off from the rest of the world, then he carefully made his way down it, taking out his gun from its holster hidden under his jacket as he did so.

Slowly, tentatively, his weapon held out in front of him, Spencer began to make his way down the narrow alleyway. Even though he'd never been there before, the detective knew that the place branched off into a rough, uncompleted square-like-shape. That was, an "L" with a right side. He was on that side now, since that was where the fence he'd taken had maze, not overly confounding, but more than a little annoying.

When Spencer had reached the end of his path and come to a corner that would lead him into the middle of the "L", he stopped. If Samantha was anywhere, she would most –likely be there, since that would be the most shut off area available. Carefully, the man eased a fraction of his head around the corner, attempting to get a glimpse of what awaited him.

And, sure enough, there she was. Samantha Puckett.

There was no mistaking her. Even though she had her back to the detective, luckily, her skinny, well curved and "fragile" posture was unmistakable. She was leaning slightly against the brick wall of the store, seemingly scraping something away with her fingers. Whether she was attempting to clean her hideout a little or carve a picture because she was bored, the older man didn't know nor care. He didn't wait any longer.

Silently bracing himself, Spencer jumped out from behind the corner, fingers poised on the trigger of his gun. He saw the blonde girl startle as she at last realized that someone else was there. She turned, quickly and abruptly, without any caution at all, which made Spencer wonder at her apparent skill. Samantha's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and her already-pale-face grew even paler when she saw what was pointed at her. Clearly, she had not been expecting this.

Grimly, Spencer tightened his grip on his gun, noticing with anxiety the gun on the criminals own waist. Samantha had not moved at all since turning around, but the detective was still uncertain. He'd been told about this girl's rashness and impulsiveness before, and he knew that if he himself was not prepared, he could easily lose the upper hand he'd gained.

Edging forwards slightly, gun aimed directly at the girl's chest, Spencer said:

"Get your hands up where I can see them, now."

For a moment, it looked like the girl was going to refuse. Her eyes were defiant, and there was fight in them.  
Slowly, with every sign that Spencer was her least-favorite person in the world, the young delinquent raised her hands to the level of her shoulders, glaring back at her captor.

Under normal circumstances, Spencer would have called for backup and waited for it to arrive before he attempted anything else, but something about Samantha… enraged him.  
Somehow, he wanted to be the one to catch her. Him alone. Her. So even though he knew it was dangerous, even though he knew that, the younger woman could probably attempt to disarm him, Spencer moved a few steps forward and said:

"Good. Now, turn around and get on your knees, slowly. Any sudden movements and you're dead, got it?"

Spencer thought that the last part might have been overdoing it a bit, but he couldn't allow his enemy to see him scared or uncertain, not that he was. Samantha made no reply, except for a scowl that would have killed the older man a million times over if looks been deadly, but she complied with Spencer's command, slowly turning so that her back was to him, then kneeling down on the hard ground of the alley pavement. She carefully moved her hands from her shoulders to the back of her head, without having to be told.

Spencer felt his stomach lurch slightly in apprehension as he slowly began moving forwards once again. He moved his gun to a one-handed grip and with his free hand, reached into his jacket und pulled out the pair of handcuffs he had there. Very carefully, he knelt on one knee behind the young woman, trying to be as quiet as possible, dropped his gun and pulled Samantha's hands down behind her back, cuffing the other as he did so.

Effortlessly, he pushed Samantha onto her stomach, knowing she was no real threat to him now, and began patting her down for weapons. He removed the gun attached to her waist, as well a sharp knife, bound around her left thigh, and a wallet that had been in her jacket, which at a quick glance seemed to hold nothing but money.

"Not quite quick enough, right Puckett?", Spencer said, unable to keep the mocking tone out of his voice. He saw a scowl appear on the young criminal's face, which only made him smile more.

"Fuck you, _officer_," Samantha snapped back, putting as much detest as she could manage into the last word. Spencer was not offended.

"Come on, now," he said in a sarcastic tone. "It's not going to be pleasant for either of us if we can't be civil to one another, is it?"

"Fuck civil. Fuck _you_. Like I'd waste my time being nice to _you_."

Spencer smiled and moved so that he was leaning right over the girl. He stared into her face, seeing the anger and resentment there. But, he saw a childish look of defeat and embarrassment in her face, as well, which, Spencer had to admit, was somewhat… cute. Very cute, actually.

"Besides, you started it," Samantha continued, her voice stubborn and her eyes set as she stared back at her captor, presumably unfazed by his closeness. "You were the one who came out here, caught me off guard… I don't do that kind of thing."

Now that Spencer looked closer, he realized that Samantha was quite a bit younger than he'd first thought. The ruffled hair, make-up and clothes were somewhat deceiving. At a guess, the detective would have placed the girl at about twenty and not at her actual sixteen. About fifteen years younger than him though.

"Also, I think you guys must be pretty bored if you're going after someone like me. Or do they just send the rookies like you out to take care of petty criminals?"

Her voice was nice, too. It had a sort of… rough, bitter note too. Her accent was strong, and slightly fast, like it's user didn't think before speaking.  
Her face and body were next to perfect; her body was either the right size or a fraction too skinny. Her breasts were not too big, not too small. But busty… Her thighs had the perfect curves…. She was a real woman, no doubt.  
And though she wasn't lanky or weak-looking, she looked somewhat vulnerable and easy-to-control. Her face was perfectly fractioned, with a half-sarcastic, half-annoyed kind of air about it. Her messy, goldish-blonde hair was rough and unbrushed, but it suited her. It… really suited her.

"I hope you don't think you're good at your job, just because you caught me. As I sad, I'm just a petty criminal, there are far bigger things you guys could be-"

The young woman's defiant rabble was cut abruptly short as her captor roughly pushed his mouth over her lips, throwing himself completely on top of her and shoving his tongue deep into her mouth. Samantha struggled feebly, her options fatally limited without the use of her hands, along with the body of a man weighing her down.

Spencer continued kissing her, long and hard, running his hands along his prisoner's jacket and top. Finally, after well over a minute, he pulled away, breathing hard.  
The girl's breathing was not much better, and she was staring at Spencer as though he'd just appeared out of the Twilight Zone or something.

"Y-You… What the fuck…" she spluttered, struggling somewhat to escape but getting nowhere.

"Shut up," Spencer mumbled.

He wanted her.

He didn't know how he wanted her, or why in God's name he wanted her, but he did.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt the very strong urge to feel someone, feel someone naked and writhing beneath him, and it wasn't one of his girlfriends – the girls he'd been dating so far – that he wanted. It was a girl, a fucking convicted criminal, but…

He snapped out of his musings, looking at Samantha beneath him. She was frowning, her face was flushed, and she was doing her best to hide her ragged, heavy breathing, but by God, she was so attractive.

Samantha smirked when she saw Spencer's gaze, embarrassingly jumping from her eyes to her lips.

"Well, well, well," she chuckled, making another attempt to struggle against the handcuffs. "I guess I'm dealing with one of those cops who doesn't fuck his secretary, like the rest of the department, but sneaks off into dark alleys like these and forces sixteen year-old whores to suck his cock. This could get crazy…"

"Shut up," Spencer repeated firmly. "I could blow your fucking head off right now, without even breaking a law, so I suggest you do what I tell you to do."

"Oh, no," Samantha said, with sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Stop it, you're scaring me."

"I'd better," Spencer muttered, and kissed her again, aggressively, his tongue roaming her mouth, and it didn't make any sense, not one bit, but he didn't care.

"For fuck's sake…" Samantha hissed into the kiss and started struggling again. If it was against him or the handcuffs, Spencer didn't know, and it was just another thing he didn't give a crap about. He was getting more and more turned on by the second, and the fact that the girl's curvy, slender body was tensing and writhing beneath him, trying to break free, was just adding to it.

Spencer's one hand snuck into Samantha's jacket, feeling the thin fabric of her top, and suddenly felt a longing to feel her soft skin against his fingertips…. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?

With some kind of sick satisfaction, Spencer heard the young woman give a low moan, though it was mostly muffled by his own mouth. Encouraged, Spencer continued feeling Samantha's skin trough the thin fabric of the top. His victim was still struggling in an attempt to free herself, bit her resistance had lessened slightly.

Hungrily, Spencer bit down on the delinquent's lower lips, silently but aggressively coaxing her to kiss him back. She wouldn't. Frustrated, Spencer pulled away for a second time, glaring down on the blonde girl, who glared defiantly right back up at him.

"You're not making his easy, Puckett," Spencer said quietly, gently rubbing his fingers against the outside of Samantha's top. He saw the criminal's face strain and felt her body convulse slightly as the cop's hand brushed under her bra, against her right nipple.

Spencer began lowering his free hand slowly his companion's stomach and, at the same, slid his occupied hand down and under Samantha's shirt, touching her skin directly. The blonde trembled again from the direct contact, and with a mixture of pleasure and triumph, Spencer felt a hard nipple against his finger.

Smirking, the detective moved his left hand up Samantha's stomach and once again began massaging her nipple, directly this time. Spencer moved his head down beside Samantha's again und began to nibble playfully her neck.

He wanted to get another moan out of her; he wanted to hear the bitch crying out with pleasure and begging him for release. He wanted to make the dirty thief suffer, to teach her a lesson for being such a slut. But most of it all, he wanted to cure this maddening lust that had built itself up in him so suddenly and was now threatening to take control of his entire body until he went insane.

But for that to happen, Spencer knew, he would have to continue with what he was doing, even though it was wrong, and even though the girl stood for everything he despised.

With disgust, Spencer heard his own voice, muffled against Samantha's neck, murmuring in a tone hoarse with desire and arousal:

"Just do as I say, Puckett, and it'll be a whole lot less painful, okay?"

He almost moaned aloud with pleasure when he heard the young woman give a low whimper of fear, as she finally realized that the situation she was in was no laughing matter. God, her fear turned him on so much. Grunting, the older man pushed his right hand down in Samantha's pants, grabbing hard on the wet pussy he found there.

Samantha gasped and arched her back slightly as warm fingers entered her wet tightness. With his other hand, the detective was still fingering the already-hardened nipples of the girl, and the next moment, he had pushed his mouth over Samantha's again and was practically sucking her tongue out of her mouth, and this time, the criminal was kissing him back, just as passionately.

After a few satisfying seconds, Spencer broke the kiss and pulled away, smiling at the frustration he saw in the delinquent's eyes.

"Surrender?" he mumbled with a grin as he felt her trembling body push itself against his hand.

"Fuck you," Samantha replied, and she probably wanted it to come out as another angry hiss, but instead, it sounded like an anguished cry from her own mental battle between her pride and her lust.

"That's not how nice girls talk," Spencer murmured, and moved his lips from her mouth to her earlobe, letting his breath brush over the sensitive skin there. "Nice girls say "please"."

"Fuck you," Samantha repeated, biting her lip, but she still couldn't suppress a tortured moan. "God…"

Spencer closed his mouth over her again, letting his one hand put some more pressure on Samantha's wet pussy, still disgusted with himself for being so turned on by this, for making out with a criminal, but it was all worth it. He hadn't been able to make his girlfriends moan like this at all.

He tried to pretend that his rapidly-growing erection didn't exist, but that got harder to do by second. Even though Samantha couldn't touch him, everything about her seemed to turn him on even more. Her body, her writhing, her moans, her sounds, her soft throbbing wet pussy. Her… helplessness.

_God, I'm a control freak,_ Spencer thought, as he felt her quivering breath against his lips.

But it was easier that he didn't think about it. Spencer tried to stay jaded and insensitive as he gave Samantha's pussy a slow, teasing thrust, still playing with her erected nipple, drinking in the girl's moans and pressing his wetted lips against her neck. Even though he knew he should stop… Hell, it wasn't like he didn't feel how desperate and lustful his kisses were becoming, but he couldn't do that. He could hold back, though. This was all about teaching Samantha a lesson, after all.

But he still couldn't keep the blood from roaring in his ears as he heard the criminal grunt when he gave her another thrust.

"Oh jeez…", Samantha said, her voice rough as she shook her shoulders, as though she were attempting to slip her hands out of the cuffs.

"You're starting to give in, aren't you?" Spencer said smugly, and smiled in the soft, naked skin of the delinquent's neck.

Samantha chuckled, softly and grimly.

"I am," she muttered, and even though Spencer was filled with a sadistic satisfaction at these words, it was soon washed away by what she said next, with a cruel, mocking note in her voice.

"But I don't seem to be the only one."

**So. I was getting a little long, anyway it would be nice if you lovely iCarly fans could review this fic and let me know what you think – and chapter two will come soon :)**


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